What colour is my life now?
by griffinatic
Summary: OOTP spoilers! Sixth year fic with a vivid picture of how Harry percieves his life. Warning! Child abuse. Give it a go, you won't regret it!
1. My life as a rubrix cube

Chapter 1

My life as a rubrix cube

The lingering light of the sun on the horizon brought a peace and quiet to the residents of Little Wighning Surrey. Though only a few noticed its setting everyone was aware of the fact that darkness was creeping in.

One boy in particular knew the darkness well. Very well indeed. His room was lit with only the light that the window to the outside world provided. In one corner of the room was a small cot, not even a bed, with a small piece of cloth on it to serve as a blanket.

His clothes were all too big for him. The few that he had. He wore a long sleeved turtleneck which was at least three sizes too big for his small frame. His pants was the same size but in addition to being too big around the waist he had to roll it up so as not to trip himself.

That was the only clothes he had at the moment. His other clothes was in the trunk that resided beside his bed, a shirt and trousers, both dirty from being worn for days without being washed.

As he stared out the window he fancied himself thinking that he saw a concerned pair of eyes looking at him from the darkness behind a pair of rubbish bins down the road. The eyes stared at him for only a moment and he couldn't even be sure if he was really seeing anything but it felt good to imagine that someone, somewhere, cared about him.

Oh, no, he didn't live alone in that house. No. He lived with his 'family'. His aunt, uncle and cousin. They prided themselves with being a normal everyday _loving _family. Projecting their love and care for their son for all to see.

But no one ever saw this young man. Everyone knew about their nephew living with them during the school holidays, yes, everyone knew. They knew that the boy was a juvenile delinquent, living off of his family, giving them grief during the short time of year he had to live with them. Yes, the Dursleys had told everyone about him. Everyone knew all the Dursleys told them about the boy.

What they didn't know was that it was all lies.

Lies about who and what he was. Lies about who the delinquent in the family was. Lies about how he treated everyone like dirt. All just lies.

No, this boy was everything but a delinquent. He was not normal, no, but there was a very good reason for that. He was a wizard. A very powerful wizard who wanted nothing more than a loving family. And to just be normal. He didn't even mind if he was a normal wizard which meant he was definitely not normal by any means but at least he would be normal by wizarding standards.

But that was not to be.

He was Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived, the thorn in the ministry of magic's side. The savior of the wizarding world. He was a hero, a spoiled brat, a delusional boy and any other names one could think of. Everyone had their own opinions about this boy.

He just wanted to be normal.

He just wanted a loving home.

But that was not to happen. He was to live with his aunt and uncle. His parents dead. Dead at the hands of the bane of Harry's existence. Lord Voldemort had killed his parents. Had tried to kill Harry. But failed. Now, almost 16 years later, this was the result of one fateful night. The night that changed everything.

The night which gave the world the chance to live in peace. The night which changed the lives of many people. The night that Harry Potter's life was taken out of his hands.

The night that his nightmare began.

Sitting by the window in his room Harry thought about the past week. The week that everything changed. He had thought that his life was one big rubrix cube, wanting to be solved. The colors of the box representing his moods, his way of living, his life.

If the colors of one side was put in the right places, the right sequence, his life would become more manageable. Something good would happen and he would feel some peace.

Not now.

Not at the moment.

At the moment his rubrix cube was one big colorful mix. Blue mixed with red and orange and green and yellow. Only white was left out of the mixture.

Harry fancied himself with this picture. Every color mixed in the box but white was not within the colors that represented his life at the moment. No, peace was not part of his life at the moment.

Slowly moving back to his small cot, Harry gingerly sat down at the head and lifted his legs onto the thin mattress covering the base of the cot.

He winced as some of his bones protested loudly against his movements. His arm was broken. His right arm. He didn't know if he would be able to write the letters to the order as he had promised to do. But he would worry about that at a later stage.

Now, he had to worry about making as little noise as possible while positioning himself on his 'bed'. Luckily his legs were still unbroken, not unbruised (is there such a word?), but unbroken. He also sported a black eye and a split lip.

No, white was definitely not in his sequence of colors.

He thought that red would be a dominant color at the moment. Maybe three red blocks with blue, green, orange and yellow in between.

The other sides of the box represented his friends. The red blocks represented his enemies. Only there were too few red blocks to represent everyone. The white represented his family. All dead, but all of them, he knew, loved him. His parents, godfather and he thought, maybe even his grandparents. The other colors represented various other people. His friends, his peers and his fans.

He just hope that one day his side of the rubrix cube would be all white.

He fancied he saw that picture.

But not now.

Not at the moment.

At the moment he saw a lot of red.

His enemies had a strong hold on his life at the moment. But those enemies where not the enemies normal people had. No, these enemies where both pure evil enemies and scared enemies. Both Voldemort and his 'family'. No, they weren't his family. Family wouldn't do this to you.

Family wouldn't abuse one another. No, they weren't his family.

Harry had been home for but a few weeks and was already wishing to be anywhere but here. His uncle had locked him up in the cupboard under the stairs for the first three days. Up until Harry had pounded on the door and reminded his uncle that he had to write a letter to the order. Oh, how he regretted that decision. That was the start of the pain. The start of his continuing nightmare.

He was dragged up the stairs to his 'room'. He wrote the letter to the order, stating that everything was fine and that he didn't need anything. Uncle Vernon demanded that he read the letter before it was sent to make sure that he didn't write and 'rubbish' about how he was treated. Didn't want the other wizards to find out how his nephew was treated, now did he?

As Hedwig soared out the window Harry was the 'fortunate' individual to come quite well acquainted with Vernon Dursley's fist. His stomach met the first blow. Followed closely by his ribs and lastly his face.

This went on night after night. He became Vernon's punching bag, his steam reliever. This had gone on for about two weeks now and Harry was sure that if he was to leave the house at the moment he would not be recognized.

After the first night, his uncle had decided that maybe it would be best to leave his face out of his 'relieving' process.

Dudley had not been so nice.

Now Harry sported a black eye, split lip and courtesy to his uncle, a broken arm.

He hoped he could write the letter in two days for he did not fancy any of the order members seeing him like this.

No-one could find out how he was treated.

He deserved it after all.

He should be dead, not Sirius.

No, not Sirius.

Why? Why did he have to die? Why did fate have to take his only family left away? His white blocks was disappearing fast, being replaced with red ones.

He considered the Weasley's his family but didn't want to think about them in that way anymore, for if they were to move into his white block spaces they would also be taken away. No, he couldn't do that.

He was alone.

He was meant to be alone

He was meant to die alone.

"_Either must die at the hand of the other…"_

Did that mean that only Voldemort could kill him? Did that mean that if someone else fancied themselves with killing him he would not die but suffer their wrath?

He hoped not.

If that should happen he would seek Voldemort out and ask him to finish the prophecy himself.

But now, now he had to concentrate on living, for it did not do to dwell on things that could not be controlled.

Harry wrapped his arms about him and concentrated on his new injuries. He had discovered in the beginning of the summer that he had some sort of healing instinct. If he concentrated hard enough he could mend most of his broken bones and cuts, if there were, on his body.

He felt the cut in his lip close and licked the excess blood off. He didn't want it to dry on his face and wasn't allowed out for another three hours to use the bathroom.

He concentrated again and felt the bones in his arms righting itself in position but he knew that it would have to mend together on its own for now. He had no more energy left.

Uncle Vernon was quite furious and surprised the first time he saw that Harry had healed himself. But now, Harry knew that Vernon was thankful for that gift of Harry for otherwise those other 'freaks' would know that something was wrong.

If Harry was to show up at the train station sporting a black eye, split lip or any other noticeable injuries, Vernon, knew that he would feel their wrath.

He also knew that his nephew would not speak of this to anyone. He was too proud to do that. Too mindful of how weak he would look to go to them for help. He thanked his nephew for that quality. Now he could let off the stress of the day on the whelp and in the morning none would be the wiser. Though he did notice that the bruises tended to stay.

Harry concentrated one last time on the gash that ran down his shoulder blade before succumbing to sleep.

* * *

1 day earlier.

"NO Albus! I absolutely refuse! That boy is a menace. He sticks his nose in where it doesn't belong. He disrupted my privacy and saw one of my most private memories. I bet his laughing his head off about it as we speak. And, he got his mutt of a godfather killed. He has absolutely no consideration for others!" Severus Snape was not a happy man. Not at all.

"Now, Severus. I know that it was wrong of young Harry to look into your pensieve but you know as well as I do that boy's of that age are quite inquisitive and that it was not only his fault but yours as well for leaving your pensieve out in the open. No, I'm not blaming it on you, but please see reason. Harry had only done what you would have done at that age."

"But …"

"Back to the topic at hand. Remus had expressed his concern about Harry's mental and physical state. He said that the letters were both short and consistent. This we see as odd behavior for Harry as he is one to ask questions and demand answers. I know that we usually (or almost always) do not give him those answers but it is strange that he has not asked one question yet this summer."

"I want you Severus to go check on Harry. Just keep an eye on him. See if he's okay. He's morning Sirius's death and therefore would most probably not appreciate Remus going to him. He feels responsible for Sirius's death and seeing Remus might just push him over the edge.

Please Severus. If just to put my conscience at ease."

Severus Snape had never before seen the headmaster so dejected and worn. He could whack that Potter brat over the head right now for doing this to his headmaster.

"Very well Albus. But don't expect me to cuddle him or sympathize with his 'loss'. He's an impertinent whelp and I'm only doing this to see those damnable twinkles back in your eyes."

And with that Snape strode out of the headmasters office leaving one very bemused twinkling headmaster behind.

"I did not agree to this. No, no, I couldn't. Someone jinxed me. There is no other explanation. Why oh why did I agree to this?"

As Severus walked down the road and turned up Privet Drive he began searching for number four. It was past sun set and the street lights illuminated his path. The dead silence of the night was a worrisome factor. It was just not normal. It was as if the whole street decided to go to sleep at the same time. Here and there were a light flickering in a house but other than that is was quite. No movement.

Until now.

A slight figure in one of the windows caught his attention.

It was too dark to see who it was or even if it was a male or female but those eyes. Those eyes were the eyes of someone who was dead on their feet. There was no life in them. Severus found himself drawn to those eyes.

He felt that he wanted to know what had caused those eyes to become so lifeless. He looked to see if he could find the number and was surprised to see that he was at number 4. He looked at the window again but those eyes had turned away.

Who lived there? Certainly not Potter. Potter was a spoiled obnoxious brat who had way too much life in him for a normal person. Too insolent for a normal person.

He made his trek up the walkway and decided to just open it with an _alohamora_ rather than knocking so late at night.

He could hear a TV blaring somewhere to his left. The stairs were to his right and he followed his feet as they moved him in that direction.

The first room he encountered could only be a spoiled child's. There were toys everywhere. Broken, new and used toys.

Maybe this was Potter's room?

No, as he moved into the room he could see the occupant of the bed. A big fat whale of a boy lay snoring on his back.

Not Potter's room.

The next room seemed not to be lived in. It was a spacious well furnished room that was kept neat and tidy.

Again not Potter's room. Potter definitely not the neat type.

The next room was the master suit. A small frame lay in the bed and he could see that it was a woman. Rather than disturbing her sleep and facing her husband's wrath if she should scream he decided to leave her be.

Then there was a door.

A door with padlocks

Lots of padlocks.

He got a sinking feeling in his stomach. Whipping out his wand he spelled the locks open and entered the room.

* * *

So? What do you think? Ideas welcome!

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	2. Evaluation: Starting with red

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters in it.

Chapter 2

Evaluation: Starting with red

Warning: Some harsh words!

Everything in life has a purpose and a sequence. Sometimes it's hard to figure out the correct sequence but it is there.

Harry felt all the energy leave him. He was exhausted. He had to do his chores earlier and then after 'play time' for Vernon and Dudley had to fix himself up. His arm still hurt and the sting in his lip was definitely there but at least it did not show.

Deciding to evaluate his situation and life at the moment, Harry thought about how and where everything fit in.

Voldemort and the Dursleys was a definite red in his little box.

His white was non existent at the moment.

Blue he thought of as the outsiders, the observers and bystanders. They could easily decide to go either backward or forward. Nothing kept them in position.

His friends were yellow. They were his sun. His life force. There were quite a few.

The other colors were variations of peers, fans and supporters. He did not know for sure who fit in where.

Then his door opened.

He stilled his thoughts and controlled his breathing. Not wanting to upset Vernon with harsh breathing or even being awake at this hour.

The figure at the door entered. Harry opened his eyes only a fraction and quickly opened it the rest of the way as he saw whom had entered.

Severus Snape.

His potions professor.

One of his arch nemesis. One of the constants in his life. One of his anchors.

Yes, Severus Snape was an evil git of a professor but Harry knew he did what was right. What was expected of him. He respected the man for what he did. He hated the man for how he acted and he accepted the man for being the one constant in his life. The one thing that didn't change. The one who didn't change his opinion of Harry based on what others said.

No, Severus Snape hated Harry because he wanted to hate him.

Harry could live with that.

Even if it is actually his father whom Snape hated.

He was his anchor.

"Potter?"

The man sounded unsure.

Harry reflected that it shouldn't have come as a surprise. He decided that he most probably didn't look quite as well as one would have hoped.

Maybe Snape was a blue?

His family had been forcing him to diet with them when they gave him food. He had ate one piece of toast yesterday. Dudley was still on his diet and because of that everyone in the house had to suffer with him.

Harry was lucky yesterday. They actually fed him. Before that he had gone for two days without food. His stomach suddenly grumbled.

"Professor, what are you doing here?"

The man gave him and enquiring look before stepping forward.

Harry reached for his wand.

Was Snape an enemy? Was he actually a red?

"How do I know it's you? Tell me something only you and I would know."

He received a hard glare before the man spoke.

"You were in the second floor corridor above the dungeons with your _invisibility cloak_ (the word was uttered with a sneer) in your first year. You witnessed when I threatened Quirrel and I extended my hand to snatch that damnable cloak off your head when you retreated."

Harry was first gaping like an idiot at his professor before closing his mouth and giving a weak humorless smile.

"Okay, so it is really you Professor. Sorry, just wanted to make sure"

Snape gave another long look before approaching.

Harry backed away instinctively.

As his legs collided with his bed he knew he was cornered. Would Snape hurt him? Would he stoop as low as the Dursleys? Or would he laugh? Yes, yes he would laugh. His father had laughed at Snape in their school days.

At least he could bring a smile on someone's face.

Then he looked up.

What was that in his eyes? It wasn't hatred. It wasn't malice. Was is concern? No, Severus Snape wasn't concerned about anyone. It was hope. But for what would Snape hope for?

* * *

Snape entered the room. It was dark. In one corner of the room was a little cot, a bed. There was a bundle on the bed. Maybe a blanket haphazardly thrown on the cot?

Then he saw eyes.

Those dead, lifeless eyes he saw earlier.

Was that Potter?

"Potter?"

He wasn't sure. Could this be their savior? Their hope? He looked a bit closer. There was something wrong with the boy, but what?

"Professor what are you doing here?"

He could here a little shake in his voice. Was he scared of him? Yes, he did instigate fear into the heart of students but he would never intentionally harm one of them physically. Did Potter think he would?

What was he doing here? Oh yes, Albus asked him to come check on his golden boy.

"How do I know it's you? Tell me something only you and I would know."

He gave the child a hard glare. Was he still a child? He was but 16. Almost an adult.

"You were in the second floor corridor above the dungeons with your _invisibility cloak_ (he gave a sneer at the words) in your first year. You witnessed when I threatened Quirrel and I extended my hand to snatch that damnable cloak off your head when you retreated."

Potter's mouth fell open. Oh, this was priceless. He was gaping like an idiot.

"Okay, so it is really you Professor. Sorry, just wanted to make sure"

Well, at least the child had some brains. And he had quick reflexes. The wand was still pointing at him. He took a step forward to see Potter better.

Potter backed away.

Quickly.

Too quickly for his liking.

He heard legs hitting something solid. Potter had backed away into his bed. He was cornering this child. Their hope. Their savior. The boy would probably just stand there stock still and await his fate.

Then he saw those eyes again.

There was something in them. Was it resignation? No, it was determination. Potter wouldn't give up without a fight.

Maybe there was hope after all.

Harry didn't know what to do. Here was Snape, his most hated professor, the one who instilled fear in every student's heart, his anchor, hovering over him like an over grown bat.

He couldn't let Snape see him weak. That would bring his world crumbling down. That would change Snape's opinion of him. He would think him weak. He would cease to be his anchor.

No, he couldn't let Snape see him weak.

"Professor?"

Snape started at the voice. He was wondering how to proceed. Potter was definitely not well but the only reason he could see that was because he had experienced pain enough times to know the symptoms. Even when concealed.

Potter was in pain. But why? Who instilled that pain?

"Potter. Are you hurt?" Why did he ask that. Did he really care for the answer?

Harry didn't know what to think. Did Snape care whether or not he was okay? No, it couldn't be. It shouldn't be. Snape was not supposed to change suddenly.

"I'm fine professor. Why are you here?"

Why was he here? To check on Potter, yes, that was it.

"The headmaster asked me to come check on you. Believe me it was not my idea to waste my time which I could spend brewing a potion looking after a brat like you." Well, at least he hadn't lost his mind completely, he was back to his usual charming self. He had just begun to wonder if someone had possessed him. He usually bated, insulted and undermined Potter from the moment he saw him. Was he possessed?

Harry gave a small smile.

No, the world wasn't coming to an end.

Snape still hated him. Everything was according to the universal bylaws. Snape and Potter hated each other. That is just how it was.

He moved his hand to pick up his glasses but winced as a sudden pain hit him. His arm hadn't mended yet. He clutched it protectively to him.

"What is it now Potter? Did you sprain a muscle to reach your glasses. Are you looking for sympathy?" The sneer was back in his voice.

"No sir, I'm not looking for sympathy or pity. I merely forgot that I hurt my arm earlier. I was trying to reach my glasses."

He hurt his arm earlier. Moving out of the moon's light he could see the streak of light falling on Potter. Potter tried to back out of the light but wasn't quick enough.

He could see a black eye.

Maybe the arm and eye were related in some way.

"And how exactly did you hurt your arm Potter? Signing fan mail and being stacked with too much letters?"

Oh he loved baiting Potter.

He could see that Potter was trying to think of a quick and easy exit. So maybe he was wrong. It wasn't the fan mail.

"I don't get fan mail. I fell off the stairs. Clumsy I know but it happened."

Potter was lying. He could see it in his eyes. He wasn't a ligilemens for nothing. Grabbing Potter by the shoulder he forced the boy to look him in the eye.

He could feel the boy struggling with him. Trying to break free. Potter was bordering on hysteric. Had something like this happened before? Is that why Potter was scared?

The boy closed his eyes before he could read deep enough into them.

Oh yes, the boy definitely had brains. Who would have thought?

"Open your eyes Potter." His voice sounded like a growl.

The boy complied.

Then he saw it. He wished he didn't. He delved deeper. He couldn't stop. Something in him felled compelled to look deeper. He could see all the abuse. The big fat man, the boy of a whale, both making a punching bag out of Potter.

It started at the beginning of the summer. He found himself in a small closed off environment. It was dark. Very dark. Then there was light. Then a hand. He was lifted off his feet. No, not his, Potter's. He was Potter.

Then he felt it. The first blow. Connecting with his jaw. His stomach was next then his ribs and on and on it went.

He couldn't brake away, but he had to. He had to get away from the two pigs. Retreating his mind he found himself staring into eyes filled with hatred.

Potter hated him. Hated him for delving into the most sacred, most secret part of his mind. He couldn't blame him. He felt ashamed. No, that wasn't right. Snape was never ashamed.

He felt a limp body fall onto his chest. Potter had fainted.

Now there was something to laugh about. He tried to. He really did. But he couldn't. He couldn't laugh at this boy, no man, he couldn't laugh at someone so like himself.

Did he just think that?

* * *

He lay Potter on the bed and began assessing him. What he found shocked him. There was only a few fading scars, a few bruises and his arm which was broken earlier that same day was not at an odd angle. How did that happen?

How could there not be more scars? More bruises?

He looked at Potter and could see bags under his eyes. The boy was clearly exhausted. He would take him back with him. Back to Hogwarts. Poppy could take care of him. Or Albus. Or Manirva. Anyone but these people he calls family.

Speaking of which. Maybe he should play a little with them. He cast a mild sleeping charm on the boy and left the room.

* * *

The whale would be first. How about we add some more weight to him. Especially in his breast area. And then just lengthen the hair a bit. Oh yes, quite a charming young lass he is now.

The pig next. Lets see what he does with those hands of his broken. And his mouth glued shut. Maybe he'd loose some weight? We could always hope.

That leaves the bitch. She did shite to protect her nephew. That's even worse than doing it herself. It means she has no morals. No heart. Maybe she could do with a guilt charm. Yes, that will do. She would feel everything that her nephew had felt by the hands of her husband and son. Let's see how they would react to her screams. Knowing that they are the cause. Yes, I'd cast a revealing charm on their minds so they could see.

Feeling his work was done. Snape made his way back to Potter's room just to hear piercing scream.

* * *

Chapter 2 finished.

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	3. What the ?

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters in it.

Chapter 3

What the ...?

Warning: Some harsh words!

Severus rushed to Potter's door. He could hear the scream getting louder as he approached. He was sure it was Potter screaming. And he was in pain. The scream was filled with pain.

Who was causing the pain? The Dursley's were asleep. Thankfully. The wards were still in tact so it couldn't be death eaters, could it?

As he reached for the door handle another blood curling scream rippled through the house and Severus could hear Vernon Dursley grumbling and spluttering.

He found Potter curled in a tight ball on the bed. His whole body was shaking and Severus's first thoughts was that Potter was under the cruciatious (spelling?) but that couldn't be. He walked closer and was just about to try and wake the boy when he heard an angry grumble behind him.

Vernon Dursley stood in the doorway, his face in various shades of purple and red gesturing wildly with his arms to Severus then to his mouth then showed his fist and started towards Potter.

Quickly brandishing his wand Severus stepped in between the uncle and nephew and cast a protection spell on Potter, just in case.

Why exactly did I just do that? Severus wondered if maybe he was being possessed. He didn't like Potter, Potter didn't like him, why did he suddenly care about what happened to the little brat?

'Maybe b'cause you don't want what had already happened to him to happen again.' A little voice in his head spoke up.

Deciding to deal with his new found conscience later Severus pointed his wand at the raving pig in front of him.

The pig stopped his arm waving but the color in his face didn't change at all.

"Now, you will be a good little muggle and do as I say. Got it?" He decided to make it plain that he was not to be messed with by poking the wand into the fat layers on the pig's belly.

"Good. Now, get all of Potter's things together and put it in that trunk by the bed. No, you will not break or damage any of the stuff. Your nephew needs all his school things and if you so much as think of damaging any of his books or other equipment, you will buy him a whole new 'kit' so to speak. Believe me, it is not the cheapest of things for a muggle such as yourself. Now get going." Severus kept his sneer in place as the muggle strutted around the room and then down the stairs.

Why on earth would he be going down stairs? Then it hit him. The cupboard down stairs. The one Potter had to stay in at the beginning of the Summer. Ignoring the feeling of dread that crept up in him as he remembered that closed off little space he turned his attention back to Potter.

The screaming had subsided and Severus could see that he was asleep. Or was he unconscious? He couldn't say for sure.

He bent down to shake the boy awake. "Potter." No answer. "Potter, come on. Get your lazy ass out of bed." The boy made a soft protesting sound but other than that there was no reaction.

Then he saw it.

All over Potter's arms were gashes. Long and shallow or short and deep and in various stages of healing.

This was not there when I got here. Severus thought to himself.

Was it a glamourie?

Could Potter accomplish a glamourie wandless?

The questions were getting more and more rediculous.

He cast a few healing spells on the wounds that he could see and then placed a strong sleeping charm on the boy. There was no way that Potter would be in any state to travel while awake.

Vernon Dursley then entered the room. He was holding a little book in one hand and a cloak in the other.

"Is that all?" Severus could barely keep his rage in check. This was the man who had abused his own nephew. Severus himself had gone through hell and back but never at the hand of his own family. No, his family had never lifted a finger on him or for him.

Quickly shaking his head to rid it of the memories that were threatening to come Severus took the items from the muggle and could now see that it wasn't a book but an album.

He placed it in the trunk and then shrunk it. Putting it in his pocket he bent down to pick Potter up.

The boy was light as a feather and although Severus knew that there were gashes and marks all over the boy's body, Potter was dead to the world. The pale shade of his skin did nothing to reassure Severus.

He started moving past the muggle towards the door when he heard his footfall made a hollow sound.

Backtracking to the spot he was sure he had stepped upon, Severus experimented by hitting the floor with his heal in various places.

He could hear a definite change in sound in one floorboard. He set Potter down on the bed again. Bending down at the correct floorboard, Severus found that there was a place where his fingers fit in and tried to lift the board. Not really surprising the board lifted off the ground and Severus found that there was a small 'package' in the hole.

Wrapped in Potter's invisibility cloak was his wand, a knife that Severus was sure he knew from somewhere and another album.

Potter obviously thought it necessary to hide these things and Severus couldn't really fault him with what he knew of the muggles.

* * *

Dursley had disappeared sometime while he was checking the floorboard and Severus was actually grateful towards the muggle for that. He didn't feel like standing court for murder at the moment and he was sure that he would have killed the muggle had he still been standing there.

He picked Potter up again and made his way towards the front door of the house only casting a quick glance in the main bedroom and found that Dursley had woken his wife and was now gesturing wildly at her to do something. Really! As if the muggles could do anything! They really are shallow minded creatures.

Once outside, Severus set off to the end of the wards surrounding the house and then apparated to Hogsmead with Potter in his arms.

He really needed to have a psyche evaluation. He was almost certain that it would show that he was crazy as a bat.

Although Potter was way too light for his age he was still heavy to carry for long distances so Severus opted to just cast a levitation spell on the boy.

* * *

The castle was quiet so late at night. All the children were gone and the professors who opted to stay at the castle were all fast asleep. Everyone that is except Albus Dumbledore.

As soon as Severus stepped through the Great doors he found a smiling Albus Dumbledore before him. The smile quickly slid off his face as he took in Severus's burden.

"Come, Severus. Lets get him to Poppy."

No more words were said and the two made their way to the hospital wing.

"Albus? Severus? What are you doing here? It's two o'clock in the morning?" Poppy Pomfrey, mediwitch of Hogwarts stood in her flannel pajamas in the middle of the hospital wing looking non too pleased with the intrusion.

"We have a patient here who needs attending Poppy. Rather urgent attending." Albus said and gestured to one of the beds.

Poppy instantly sobered and got into her mediwitch persona. She stepped over to the bed and was reaching over too remove -what she found to her internal amusement as Severus's robe -and stopped dead.

"Potter?" she asked with a shake in her voice.

"Yes, it is Harry, Poppy. Could you please ascertain the damage done. We will explain when you have finished."

Returning her attention to her patient Poppy continued to remove the robe and gasped. Potter was still wearing a shirt and some trousers but his arms were bare. There were gashes all along his arms and she could see one on Potter's cheek. He also had a black eye.

Dreading what she would see when she removed the rest of the clothing Poppy reached one trembling hand out to remove the shirt from it's tucked in position in his trousers and then lift it over his head. She had just removed it from the trousers and lifted it an inch before she gasped again and the shirt fell from her hand.

Quickly regaining her composure she turned to face her companions. Albus was no where to be seen and Severus stood in the door with his usual sneer on his face.

"Severus, as Albus is not here at the moment, could you perhaps help me. I need to remove his shirt but I don't want to use magic as I'm not sure if it would intervene with whatever is wrong with the boy."

Not really wanting to explain exactly how Potter had come by those injuries and since Albus had decided that now was as good a time as any to send a note to the boy's friends informing them of the relocation, Severus stepped forward.

"Just keep him up while I remove the shirt. Then you can lay him back down" Poppy instructed.

Severus put one of his hands behind Potters neck to support the head and the other he put on his chest. He lifted Potter's head and slid in behind the boy. Now supporting Potter from behind, he moved his hand from the neck to the blades of his back and pushed him up keeping him from falling forward with his other hand by supporting his chest.

Poppy raised an eyebrow in amusement and Severus suddenly realized his close proximity to Potter.Sneering he pushed the boy a little further from him so Poppy could lift the arms and shirt over his head.

As Poppy lifted the shirt Severus could now see all the marks quite clearly. There were two long but thankfully shallow gashes along Potter's back and one short but deep cut in his side. Severus could not see the front but by Poppy expression could surmise that it looked bad. He slid out from behind Potter but kept his one hand on his back and the other on his chest as he lay the boy down again.

Potter's chest held no comparison to his back. While there was only one deep and long gash on his abdomen the rest of his chest was littered with bruises.

"I think that his arm is broken. When I first got there, he was nursing it against his chest." Severus put forth in a calm controlled voice. Quite contradictory to what he was feeling inside.

He had thought back to when he had first entered Potter's room while he lifted Potter up so Poppy could remove the shirt. He recalled that there was a light scar visible and the black eye was quite noticeable as was the arm he nursed. He remembered that the arm was not twisted in any way that would suggest that it was broken but Potter had held it close to his chest and Severus could just see that the two parts connecting to the elbow was definitely not connected. The rest of Potter's body that he could see had looked quite normal. The arms were fine except for the broken part and although Potter had winced as he moved, even small movements Severus now remembered, Severus had thought it was because of the broken arm.

He was even more confused now. The gashes and marks on the boy's body were definitely courtesy to the boy's uncle. He could still remember that hand grabbing him from within the cupboard and dragging him out just to serve as a punching bag. But what confused Severus the most was that although he knew for certain where the wounds had come from, he didn't know why it had not shown a few hours ago.

Potter was becoming a real enigma to Severus. Severus had realized that he had been wrong about Potter being spoiled, if what he saw about this summer was any indication and he now reflected that Potter had always at least tried to do well in his lessons. Maybe if he lightened up a bit on Potter, the boy would do better in potions? Lighten up? Why did I just think that? Why would I do anything for Potter? The boy is arrogant, foolish and just like his father.

'Oh, butis he? Have you heard any whispers about what had transpired in the Pensieve? Have you seen Potter gloat about how his father had humiliated the hated potions professor? No, the boy had obviously told no one.' His father would have informed the whole school within five minutes of seeing what Harry had seen. Harry? Why, oh, why did I have to have develop a conscience now? Conscience is what gets people killed. Conscience is what hurt people. Conscience is what gets people hurt.

Conscience can also bring peace.

Severus decided to retreat to his dungeons to sort through his thoughts before the headmaster got there and dragged everything out of Severus.

He was definitely in no mood to play Albus's games right now.

* * *

TBC

So? What do you think?

Review please!


	4. White? What is white?

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters in it.

Chapter 4

Warning: Some harsh words!

White? What is white?

* * *

" headmaster. We would have to ask Severus if he has any idea how he got them."

"Will he recover Poppy?"

"Yes Albus, he will be fine. It's not that serious but if he were to stay wherever he received _those, _he would most likely have been in a very serious condition by the time term started."

Harry lay still as a board on the bed. At first he was a bit disorientated about where he was but as soon as he heard the headmasters voice, memories began swarming back.

He was at Hogwarts. In the infirmary no doubt.

And madam Pomfrey was going on about how something was not very serious. What could that be about? His injuries were gone, wasn't it? Yes, the pain was still there mostly but the physical evidence of his injuries was gone.

He opened his eyes and turned his head to have a look at his arms and gasped.

Dumbledore and Poppy had been talking the whole time but now turned around at the sound of Harry's gasp.

"Mr Potter. How do you feel?" Madam Pomfrey approached him as she spoke.

"er, well, em, I feel fine. What happened? Why aren't I at the Dursleys?"

"Relax dear boy. You were taken from your relatives because of the condition you are in. Could you perhaps tell us how it happened?" Dumbledore's voice was soft and gentle but Harry still had so many things swirling inside his head and memories of what had happened in Dumbledore's office that he couldn't summon the energy to reply in a normal voice. He opted to stay quiet.

Then he remembered.

He remembered those eyes. Piercing into his. Piercing through his mind and into his soul. He hated those eyes.

Harry quickly turned his head as he felt the tears gather. He would not cry in front of the headmaster or madam Pomfrey.

"Harry? Harry, are you alright?"

"Headmaster, could you give me a few minutes to check my patient?" Pomfrey's voice held a warning to it that even the esteemed headmaster could not ignore. He knew that Poppy was an exceptional witch and a very valuable asset in the time of war.

"Very well Poppy. I'll be in Severus's chambers if you need me."

Harry heard the door close but still kept his head turned away.

Madam Pomfrey stepped closer and Harry could feel her wand hovering over his body. It took every will power in his body not to jump up and run out of the room.

He didn't like it if people were this close to him. Especially with their hands.

"Well Mr Potter, everything seems okay. The wounds on your chest and back are healed and the gashes on your arms have been healed. Your right arm is still broken so you would have to drink the bone mending potion. It's not as bad as skelle grow but you will still have to be here for the rest of the night."

Harry turned to face the nurse and could see that she looked quite ragged and tired. He surmised that she had probably been attending to him since he got there.

"Madam Pomfrey? How long have I been here?"

"Severus brought you in yesterday evening. It's now 23:30 at night so I think it best that you get some rest. You were not too seriously injured but if those gashes were left unattended for a while longer it would have become infected. Now rest."

* * *

Harry lay awake for about two hours. He couldn't sleep. How did they know about the wounds? Why did it open up again? Didn't I heal them with this mysterious new power?

'No.' a little voice in his head said. 'You didn't heal them did you? You closed them up. You brought your bones in your arms together but you didn't heal them. You couldn't heal the bruises.'

Harry hated the rational part of his mind.

The part which always pointed out to him that he _did _have white pieces on his side of his little box. The part which pointed out that family wasn't necessarily blood related. That family could be his friends, his mentors or his peers. If only he was willing to let them be.

But no, he couldn't get too close to anyone.

Every other white piece was gone. Dead. He had no more white pieces. He was alone.

The next time Harry awoke it was to the sun streaming down through the window. He was groggy with lack of sleep and something nagged at his mind that he was supposed to be even angrier than he felt. But why?

Harry hear footsteps and at first wanted to crawl to the corner of his room and become invisible but then remembered that he wasn't in his room. He was at Hogwarts. He was safe.

No, he wasn't safe.

Those eyes were here.

Snape was here.

Snape, who had invaded the most private, most precious part of his mind. He hated Snape for that. He hated Snape for disturbing his sequence. His blocks were now all in the wrong places. Snape had turned from blue to red. His white pieces had wanted to make an appearance but he had pushed them aside. He didn't have white. He didn't like white.

He had a lot of red.

Snape was in the red. No, that shouldn't be. Snape was a constant. Snape was an anchor. Snape wasn't supposed to change position or worse, colour.

His life was way out of order.

And it was all Snape's fault.

* * *

Severus sat in his favorite armchair in front of his dying fire. He didn't know how long he had sat there. Albus had come, as he knew he would. He had asked a few questions. Severus had answered. Albus had left.

Why did he answer those questions? Why did he disclose those very private memories and moments? Why did it have to be Potter's most private memories that he disclosed? Potter had always disliked him, he knew. But now? Now Potter will definitely hate him, loath him. Why did that sound so bad?

Why did he care?

'Because Potter is nothing like what you thought he was. He is nothing like his father. He's much more like you than he is his father.'

Oh, he wanted to have a surgeon remove his logical brain. He didn't do logical. He was a strategist. He was a planner. His life was all planned out.

Torture the children. Try to put some knowledge into their half brains. Do your part in the war as a death eater turned spy and then die while protecting those you tortured.

Yes, his life was nicely planned out.

But now a new piece had raised its ugly head.

Conscience.

He hated the logical part of his brain.

The part which now so vividly pointed out that someone out there needed him. Him? No, not him, a mentor. Any mentor. Any father-figure. Not him. No. He was not the fatherly type.

'You owe it to the boy.'

"I owe nothing to that brat. He invaded my privacy. He's an obnoxious self-centered brat and I want nothing to do with him."

'You invaded his privacy' his mind pointed out.

"Severus! You know that Harry is not an 'obnoxious self-centered brat' as you so eloquently put it."

Severus only now realized that he had spoken out loud. He wanted to bury his face in the deepest hole on the earth. Maybe the hole would be big enough for his whole body to fit in. He could always hope.

Severus turned to where he had heard Albus's voice. Just as he was about to respond that he definitely meant every word he saw those eyes peering at him from behind the headmaster. Blood shot eyes.

Oh, now he really wanted to find that hole.

* * *

A bit short but I'll write the new chapter and try to put it up later today or tomorrow.

Review!


	5. Red!

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters in it.

Chapter 5

Warning: Child abus and some harsh words!

**Important Author's note**: I see there was some confusion about the "blood shot eyes". If you read it again you will see that I refer to Harry as the one with the blood shot eyes. He's peering from behind the headmaster with blood shot eyes.

Would you like me to continue with these short one a day chapters or longer twice a week chapters?

Red.

* * *

Red. All he could see was red. 

He was sure that his eyes were as red as his thoughts. Whether from the sting of holding the tears back or from being possessed by Voldemort, Harry couldn't say. He was certain that he was being possessed. It was the only way to explain his anger.

Yes, he had invaded Snape's privacy. Yes, he had seen one of Snape's most private memories. And yes, he did feel bad about it but it was nothing, _nothing_ compared to what Snape did.

Snape had invaded not one, not two but all of his most private memories of the summer. His most hated memories. And now Snape sat there, accusing him of invading his privacy. And now Dumbledore knows what Harry had done. Now Dumbledore knew that he was no better than his father.

That he was a self-centered bastard.

He, Harry, was now most probably on Dumbledore's disappointed list. Or maybe his pity list. That would be worse and with Harry's luck, that would be where he would end up.

Was everyone becoming an enemy?

Was everyone becoming red?

He could see his side of the box quickly repositioning itself forming a nice cross which resulted in four red blocks, each next to his white, and only four other colours in the corners.

He was the only white on this side of the box.

In the dead center.

Why was he always right in the middle of things?

Snape and Dumbledore was speaking but Harry couldn't hear a thing they said. He just wanted to run. Wanted to get out of there.

"Harry? Harry! Come on Harry, snap out of it."

Harry just stared blankly ahead of him.

"Potter! Get your inflated obnoxious head out of the clouds and back to earth. We, humans, can't fly that high for we don't have wings!" The maliciousness was dripping from Snape's voice and Harry was instantly reminded of just where and more precisely in who's presence he was.

Severus knew that he was taking things a bit over board, that it was a low even for him, but _anything_ just to get _some_ expression on the boy's face.

Severus had never seen Potter's face so expressionless.

So lifeless.

His eyes were one thing. He remembered all too well the lifeless eyes staring at him through the darkness, but this, his whole face, emotionless. It was unnerving.

Down right frightening.

"S..so…sorry professor." Potter seemed to still be miles away as he spoke. A dreamy expression suddenly made it's way upon his face and a slight lazy smile could be seen if you were looking for it.

Then his expression became stony again.

It seemed he had just processed the insults thrown his way. Severus could pinpoint the exact moment that Potter had realized what he, Severus, had said. Potter's face was twisting into an angry sneer and Severus was sure that if they didn't do something soon, one of them would most likely kill the other.

* * *

Harry had just been thinking that maybe, if Voldemort would be nice enough (Voldemort, nice?), maybe he would come and kill Harry. It would be quick. Painless. He would be with his family again. The red blocks would be replaced with white ones. This picture actually produced a smile. 

Then he remembered his professors standing with him and put an expressionless mask on his face.

His thoughts quickly turned to what his professor had said and he could feel the anger growing in him.

How dare he!

How dare he!

To Harry it sounded like a barb at what he had said at the end of last term in Dumbledore's office. When he said that he didn't want to be human. He hadn't meant it. Not really. He had wanted to be human, to have a soul so that he could one day be with his family again. He didn't mind if he died, if he were to lose his 'human quality' in that way.

Snape insinuated that Harry thought he was some sort of god, or angel.

Harry was anything but an angel. He had killed someone. Two people actually.

Maybe Harry was actually a red?

He certainly felt like a murderer. An enemy. Yes, he had never actually fired the killing curse or killed someone in cold blood but he was the reason that they were dead.

_Either must die at the hand of the other_. Harry knew that he would become a real murderer one day. He would have to kill Voldemort. Kill him or be killed. That actually didn't sound so bad. Maybe he could fake a stumble with their final confrontation and Voldemort would kill him and be done with it.

Yes, that did indeed sound very nice.

The professors were looking at him with something akin to concern. Well, Dumbledore looked like he wanted nothing better than to throw his arms around Harry in a bone crushing hug and Snape looked like he was fighting to keep his stern controlled expression.

What happened?

What had grabbed their attention so fully?

Did he have something in his hair, or on his face?

Harry could see Dumbledore approaching him slowly and then felt the extended hand rest on his shoulders.

He wanted to flinch, to step away. Run away.

But he also wanted to fall into those arms. Cry all his fears and doubts away. He wanted someone to be the family he never had.

He wanted a white block to replace those red blocks but knew it was impossible.

No one was his family. He was no one's family.

Harry only realized that he was sitting when a cup was placed in his hands and he was gently pushed back against the backrest of the chair.

* * *

"Now, Severus. Harry has had a traumatic experience and you behaving like a vengeful bat is not helping. Unfortunately, only you, poppy and Minerva are still at the castle. Poppy is leaving within three days and Minerva will be gone mostly during the day time to debrief new muggle born first years and their parents of the magical world." 

Snape really did not like where this conversation was going and looked towards Potter to gauge his reaction. He was a bit disappointed to see that the boy still had a far away look on his face and that he was the only one _at the moment _who was horrified with what was happening.

Oh, they would definitely hear it when Potter had snapped out of whatever little fantasy he was in.

"Severus? Severus! really, one detached mind is enough to deal with please concentrate on the now and here."

Dumbledore's voice was gentle but firm and Severus could do nothing but listen to the headmaster.

"As I was saying. I'm needed at the ministry to sort out all the educational decrees and bans that were placed. It could take days or it could take weeks. I trust Harry with my life but I would feel much more at ease if there were an adult with him."

The sinking feeling in Severus's stomach had reached his feet.

"Because Harry is here at Hogwarts, there will be no stopping him from doing magic, even though he is under age. The wards around Hogwarts prevents the ministry from recognizing the underage use of magic."

"You, Severus, are the only one I trust with Harry at this moment. I know there are a few grudges between you both and that it would be a hard road ahead but I would really appreciate it if you would please be a mentor or guardian to Harry until school starts."

"Albus, you know that I respect you and would lay my life down for you but this, this is really asking a bit much."

Severus's voice was hard but soft. He knew that there was no fighting with Albus Dumbledore, but he wanted Albus to know exactly how he felt about this arrangement.

"I know Severus and I would be eternally grateful to you if you would do this for me. Harry can stay here or in the Slytherins common room. As long as he is relatively close to you."

**_"What?"_**

Apparently Potter had come out of his daze.

* * *

So what do you think? 

Review please!


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